


At Peace

by lightofhope



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Nonbinary Character, Other, Porn with Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-16
Updated: 2019-08-16
Packaged: 2020-09-01 21:38:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20264917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lightofhope/pseuds/lightofhope
Summary: The Exarch and WoL, having been together for a while, take things further.





	At Peace

**Author's Note:**

> I have literally never written this kind of thing before and likely will never again sfskflsga it was mostly to get Gender Feelings out. And thirst. But mostly the former, ok. Feel free to yell at me @millamaxwell on twitter, as always.

The two miqo’te – the Warrior of Darkness and the Crystal Exarch, are once again in the Umbilicus. As is becoming frustratingly usual, not much progress has been made. Recently I’ris had enforced the rule that they must take regular breaks, however, and so they find themselves side by side, chatting idly.

“Does it hurt?” he asks, gesturing at the Exarch’s crystal hand. He’s wanted to ask before, but only with the move from friends to dating has he felt it appropriate to ask.

“...Somewhat,” G’raha admits, after a pause. The crystallisation was a subject that he had been avoiding – he had not wanted to worry I’ris with the details. “It’s not the most pleasant experience, feeling as though your body is not what it should be,” he adds quietly.

“I know,” I’ris says, eyes meeting his. “I’m sorry you have to go through this, Raha.”

_Ah._ Yes, he would know. They had only ever discussed it once. During a quiet moment together in Mor Dhona, I’ris had confided in him. Being the woman he was born as felt wrong, but being a man was a bad fit, too, even if he tolerated presenting himself as such for convenience. G’raha had been surprised at the revelation, indeed, simply thinking he a man until that point. But he had quietly taken I’ris’ hand, and told him his secret was safe – that _he_ was safe with him.

“I’m sorry. You must think me a fool saying such a thing to you of all people,” G’raha tries to apologise, only for I’ris to silence him with a hand gently placed against his partially crystallised cheek.

“Don’t be, idiot. I simply mean I understand,” I’ris’ thumb caresses the crystal beneath it as he gazes into the brilliant red eyes staring back at him. Sometimes he misses the mismatched eyes the man had when they first met, but something about them now was incredibly alluring.

“Thank you,” G’raha leans into the touch, basking in it. I’ris’ free hand takes G’raha’s crystallised one, linking their fingers together and all too suddenly the moment feels extremely intimate. G’raha finds himself leaning in and I’ris meets him halfway in a gentle kiss that soon turns heated. G’raha has been over the moon over these moments they’ve had lately, but finds himself never sure how far to go. But as this kiss continues—becomes more desperate, he makes a decision.

“If you’re comfortable, and only if,” he pants out when I’ris breaks away to catch his breath, face reddening at what he means to propose. “I… would like to go further than this.”

“I--” comes I’ris’ initial reaction, eyes flickering between G’raha’s eyes and lips, tail thrashing. “I am comfortable with it. More than. But...” he looks around the room, gesturing at the books surrounding them, towering dangerously.

“There are a couple of guest rooms now,” G’raha suggests. “They’re not far and rarely used, and no one will interrupt us.”

“Okay,” comes the simple, but confident reply. At this, he kisses I’ris once more before standing and offering his hand. I’ris takes it and allows himself to be lead out of the room and through the tower. “I hope you know where you’re going, because I most definitely don’t,” he laughs, nervous but excited.

“It may have taken me a good portion of the last century, but I assure you, I do,” G’raha’s hand lightly squeezes his as they eventually come to a halt at a door. “This should do. But promise me something.”

“What is it?”

“Should you become uncomfortable with this, tell me. I know you--” I’ris cuts him off with a finger to his lips.

“I will be fine. But I promise,” I’ris says, taking the initiative and opening the door to pull G’raha inside with him. It’s not the most impressive of the Crystal Tower’s myriads of rooms, but it’s functional and cozy-- almost like a crystal themed inn room, I’ris thinks to himself. G’raha closes the door behind them and within seconds his lips are on the other miqo’te’s, pulling him close.

“Just so you know,” I’ris gasps out between kisses, his arms wrapping around G’raha’s neck. “If you dramatically pull my shirt open without unbuttoning it, I _will_ kill you. It was expensive.” G’raha laughs at this, taking the hint and undoing the shirt carefully while returning to the kiss. Once undone, he slips his hand under the it, caressing the skin that was hidden beneath and earning a quiet noise of approval from I’ris, who puts his arms down so it can be removed. Once it falls to the floor, he pulls away from G’raha, looking pointedly at him.

“What?”

“Robe.”

“Oh,” smiling to himself about how impatient I’ris is, and also thankful he, not intending on leaving the tower that day, was not wearing the red and white portions of his robe, he pulls it over his head with ease. Left in nothing but his smallclothes, crystallisation plain in sight, he finds himself somewhat self-conscious.

I’ris draws closer again, kissing the small patch of skin left on G’raha’s neck before moving to where it fused with the crystal, making G’raha’s breath hitch. Following the trail with his tongue, he takes the crystal hand in his.

“Ris--” G’raha gasps. I’ris so obviously trying to make him more comfortable with being seen makes him want this more, and he begins to guide him towards the bed; undoing I’ris’ belt as he does so.

“You’re sure no one will find us here?” I’ris asks, kissing at the crystal and trailing a hand down G’raha’s bare chest. His belt is undone, and he pulls away to unceremoniously kicks his pants off in one direction or another. After a moment’s hesitation, he removes his smallclothes, too, flinging likely in the same direction.

“I’m sure,” G’raha reassures distractedly, taking in the sight in front of him, tail swishing of its own volition in anticipation as he follows suit.

“Okay,” I’ris makes to sit on the bed, only to find himself swept up by G’raha, who with a grin lays him carefully on it instead. “Was that really necessary,” he laughs as G’raha climbs onto the bed, over him.

“Yes, incredibly so,” the Exarch insists, leaning down to kiss I’ris’ neck. At this, a hand flies to I’ris’ mouth to hold back the noises already threatening to spill out. The sudden shyness is cute, G’raha thinks, but he wants to hear. To take in everything and commit it to memory.

“Ris...” he purrs into I’ris ear; nipping lightly then nuzzling into it, earning him a muffled gasp. Gently, he takes hand covering I’ris’ mouth and guides it away, linking their fingers as he does so. “No one will hear us, don’t worry.”

“_You’ll_ hear me,” I’ris huffs.

“You’re really worried about that now?” with a laugh – a genuine, sweet laugh, G’raha kisses I’ris’ forehead, then his nose, then lips. “I won’t tell a soul what I hear here, you have my word.”

“You’d better not. I have a reputation to uphold.”

“And I don’t?” G’raha chuckles, lips grazing against the other miqo’te’s. Fingers card into his hair as I’ris snorts in response and impatiently pulls him down into another kiss. He happily complies – treats it as if they’re making up for precious lost time. Making up for all the times he, back in their days in Mor Dhona, had wanted to kiss I’ris but had hesitated.

“Don’t care,” I’ris whispers breathlessly as they break away. “I saw you first.”

The Exarch’s heart swells at the words and he can’t help but lean down into another kiss, pouring all of the love he feels for his friend—now lover, _his_, he reminds himself, into it. The fingers in his hair tighten their hold as their owner moans quietly into the kiss, self-consciousness giving way to want. G’raha carefully untangles his hand from I’ris’ other, instead moving it to trace fingers up and down his side.

“I’ve wanted this for so long,” he murmurs against I’ris’ lips when they finally part again. “Wanted _you_.” He moves to trail kisses along I’ris’ neck once more, finding spots to possessively suck at, to mark as his own.

“You have me,” comes the loving reply between small, pleased noises. The hand at I’ris’ side moves to his chest, teasing at and tweaking his nipple, extracting a moan as as G’raha slowly kisses and licks his way down to the other. Every noise from his lover goes straight to his lower half, making his breath hitch and his heart feel like it will beat out of his chest, but he won’t rush this. Not after waiting so painfully long. Curious, he pinches one nipple and bites down gently on the other. I’ris, not expecting this lets out a loud moan, clamping his hand over his mouth too late to muffle it, much to G’raha’s amusement. He had suspected the other miqo’te was sensitive, but this--

“Enjoying yourself, there?” he grins up at I’ris before returning to occasionally repeating the action between gentler ones, enjoying the warmth that pools in his stomach at each reaction. Panting, I’ris finally lowers his hand from his mouth to reply.

“Seems like you are, too.” he manages, absent mindedly stroking G’raha’s hair, loosening his braid.

“Absolutely,” G’raha hums, kissing I’ris’ chest fondly. He eventually begins to move lower, pausing to place gentle kisses on one of the twin scars on either side of I’ris’ chest.  
“Thank you for trusting me,” he says, looking up at the heavy lidded yellow eyes staring back at him as his thumb gently traces the other scar. The Sharlayan chirurgeons had done a good job, he mused, glad I’ris had been well taken care of despite it having been before they even met.

“I love you, Raha.” I’ris replies, smiling down at him and moving the hand in his hair to his cheek. He leans into the touch, closing his eyes for a moment. Oh, how he’d longed to hear those words from I’ris. Even when he had believed he would never be able to reveal his identity—not before _that_. The fact his love makes sure he hears it so often now, _that he’s alive to hear it_, is still overwhelming. As if sensing his thoughts, I’ris’ thumb gently strokes his cheek; a gesture he finds himself grateful for.

“Ris...” he places his hand over I’ris’ for a moment, sombre thoughts leaving him, and opening his eyes with a genuine smile. “I love you so very much.” After enjoying the moment a little longer, G’raha removes his hand, instead bringing it to I’ris’ thigh as he slowly continues his descent. He kisses down I’ris stomach, deliberately trailing to the side somewhat and towards his thigh, causing him to let out a frustrated whine.

“So impatient, Ris,” G’raha says with fond, feigned exasperation. He trails kisses to I’ris’ inner thigh, nipping and sucking at it lovingly along the way, before finally reaching where I’ris so badly wanted him to be.

“Put your legs over my shoulders,” he says, surprised by how calm he sounds despite how overwhelmed he feels. I’ris obeys, hands going to the sheets beneath him as if bracing himself. “Please, tell me to stop if it’s unpleasant.”

At I’ris’ nod, he brings his mouth to the other miqo’te’s opening. I’ris can’t help the loud moan that slips out when G’raha’s tongue licks at him, fingers joining it there soon after. Back arching and one hand clinging to the sheets as he suspected he may need to, his other hand finds its way back into G’raha’s hair.

“It’s not--” he gasps, fully unprepared for just how good this would feel. “It’s not fair that—ah-- it’s just me.” G’raha’s only response is to caress I’ris hip with his free hand, continuing his ministrations hungrily. For a time, the room is filled with only the sounds of I’ris’ pleasure—moans of G’raha’s name and desperate pleas for him to continue. He feels vaguely selfish but _good_, so incredibly good, as the pleasure becomes almost much. He’s successfully undone G’raha’s braid, and the sight of him, hair dishevelled and eagerly pleasing him, draws out an obscene noise of its own.

“Rah-a--” I’ris cries out as he reaches his limit, both the pleasure and the fact that the one giving it to him is _G’raha_, his beloved G’raha who he once thought he’d never see again, overwhelming him. G’raha keeps going as I’ris rides out his orgasm, eventually slowing to a halt and pulling back to get a better look at his face. As expected, he looked incredible completely undone; eyes closed as he lay panting. The Exarch gently lowers I’ris’ legs from his shoulders and crawls back up to him, kissing his cheek upon arrival and brushing lilac hair from his eyes.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” G’raha whispers, voice full of his own unattended to need. I’ris wraps his arms around him in response, one hand finding its way down to where G’raha’s tail meets his skin. He smirks triumphantly at the noise of desperation G’raha makes, continuing to touch the sensitive area; drawing out every sound he can.

“Give me a second. And then you can… we can...” I’ris dances around what he wants to say, part stubbornly too stubborn to and part shy.

“We can what?” G’raha teases, peppering kisses along his neck, still reacting oh so perfectly to the hand at his tail. I’ris sighs frustratedly, knowing he wasn’t going to get out of saying it.

“Fuck,” he says simply, pinching the sensitive skin as he does so, and G’raha feels his stomach flip in response to both the action and the bluntness of I’ris’ statement. G’raha props himself up to look at him, concerned.

“I don’t want to push you. The fact you have even let me do this much--” he’d be lying if he said he doesn’t want to. He almost aches with how badly he does. But I’ris’ comfort with the situation comes first.

“I want to. I want _you._” I’ris assures him, face indeed still full of want. G’raha kisses him softly in response, only to let out a shout of surprise as I’ris takes the opportunity to roll them over and look down at him, grinning.

“What’re you—_oh_.” he trails his hands up I’ris’ thighs, towards his hips as the other miqo’te moves to position himself. “That works.”

“Can’t have word getting out that I’m lazy in the bedroom,” I’ris jests, before gingerly beginning to lower himself onto the Exarch’s dick. G’raha lets out a loud moan that surprises even himself as he feels himself slowly enter I’ris, using every bit of willpower to not let himself thrust up. Not yet.

“Ah-- Ris. Ris this feels so--” words come tumbling from his lips as I’ris fully takes him in, warmth surrounding him. _Unlike anything I dared to imagine this past century_, he wants to say, but the words are lost to the feeling.

“Gods,” I’ris gasps, partly from the sensation of something—someone—inside him like this and partly from G’raha’s reaction as he lay beneath I’ris, red and white hair splayed out messily and mouth hanging slightly open, expression a picture of pure lust. Needing to see more, I’ris slowly begins to move, awkwardly and unsure of himself at first, but gaining confidence in meeting G’raha’s hips as time passes. Their moans of pleasure fill the air, mixing together like a love song meant for their ears only. A treasure that they both carve into their memories.

“Wait,” G’raha says suddenly, panting. I’ris stops immediately, concern on his face. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to be alarming, just...” he laughs sheepishly and shakily pushes himself a sitting position, bringing I’ris into his lap as he does so. “I want to be like this.” I’ris nods in response, leaning in to whisper a request of his own into G’raha’s ear.

“Raha, touch me. With the crystal side. _Please_,” he whispers, kissing the ear after and smiling at how frantically it twitches in response. One of his favourite things about the love of his life, he thinks to himself.

“Anything for you,” G’raha says, left hand going to I’ris hip and the crystal reaching between them to his clit, any self-consciousness over his arm lost to the moment. At that, I’ris begins to move again, one hand on G’raha’s shoulder for support, the other tangling back into his hair as he kisses the Exarch hard. G’raha’s mind is nothing but I’ris, of how much he loves him—needs him, needs _this_, and I’ris’ is much the same.

“I love you. Ris, I love you.” G’raha moans into his mouth like a mantra, fuelling I’ris’ motivation to make him come - not far off himself. It’s not much longer until G’raha does, fingers digging into I’ris’ hips so hard it’s likely to bruise (not that he cares, welcoming any marks G’raha leaves on him) and breaking from the kiss to let out a broken cry of I’ris’ name. I’ris keeps moving until G’raha is done, and that combined with the spectacle in front of him is enough to send him over the edge for a second time. G’raha buries his face against I’ris’ neck as he wraps both arms around him, holding him close. I’ris closes his eyes tiredly and returns the gesture, sighing contentedly.

“Thank you,” G’raha mumbles shyly into his neck. I’ris raises an eyebrow.

“Do people normally thank people for sleeping with them?”

“Not—not _that_.” G’raha splutters, pulling away to look the other in the eye. “That was incredible, but not that. But… for remembering me. For loving me after all this time.” I’ris opens his mouth to respond, but for now cups G’raha’s face and brings him into a slow, loving kiss, gently pushing him backwards so that his head lands on a pillow.

“I could never forget,” he says between sweet kisses, slipping off G’raha and propping himself up above him. “When you left, it felt like a part of me did too. It killed me knowing I would likely never see you again. And it was nearly more than I could take when I almost lost you a second time. I will _always_ love you, G’raha Tia. Please, don’t let there be a third time,” I’ris whispers against G’raha’s lips, catching him in another kiss as if he can’t get enough of doing so.

“Never again,” G’raha assures him with a gentle smile, caressing his cheek.

“Never,” content, I’ris lays next to G’raha, head on his chest.

“Might want to clean up a bit before you get comfortable,” G’raha suggests softly, stroking I’ris hair.

“Don’t care. Later,” he mumbles, drifting.

“You _will_ care though,”

“Then you can care about it with me when I do. Not moving,” I’ris stubbornly drapes his arm across G’raha, who simply laughs softly, content. For the first time in a very, very long while, the pair are completely at peace.


End file.
